


The Joy that We Borrow

by Myself, What_a_mess (Myself)



Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: Family Feels, Friendship, Gen, High School, Longmires gonna Longmire, OT3, Racism, because bigots suck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27462700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myself/pseuds/Myself, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myself/pseuds/What_a_mess
Summary: Being a teenager is hard enough, and Longmires have never done anything the easy way.  Family shapes who you grow up to be, and Cady's is no different.
Relationships: Martha Longmire/Walt Longmire, Martha Longmire/Walt Longmire/Henry Standing Bear
Comments: 37
Kudos: 13





	1. Bump, Set, Spike

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from Sean Rowe's song ["I'll Follow Your Trail"](https://youtu.be/vd7VqA0ZA-U) because it gave me family feels for Cady and Henry.
> 
> As ever, enormous and eternal thanks to Min for being an invaluable and deeply appreciated cheerleader, sounding board, and beta reader. 💛

Walt’s work schedule as the senior deputy for the county meant that he hardly ever managed to make it to any of Cady’s volleyball matches. Martha came to every single one, though, and Henry made it to most of them, so her dad not being there wasn’t really a disappointment, it just made it special when he did make it.

Making varsity her sophomore year left Cady riding high, and hitting mid-season with their team on a solid winning streak meant that for once more than just a few parents and friends were starting to come to matches. Cady finished the warmup sets she’d been doing and waved to Henry and trotted over to say hi. He snagged her water bottle from the lowest bleacher and held it out for her when she got close. She nodded her thanks and rolled her eyes good naturedly when he started in on a pre-game pep talk, doing some stretches.

This match Henry was sitting behind the team’s bench while her mom was on the other side of the gym talking to Ms. Parrish. It still weirded her out that her mom had gone to school with one of the teachers, but at least Cady had never been in her class. Knowing one of the teachers had probably seen you running around in diapers was a bit much, but the idea of having her for science was a _whole_ other thing. It looked like her dad was working again, but that usually meant on evenings she had a match that he would bring her a piece of diner pie when he got home.

Henry pointed out Coach Dalton gathering the team just before Cady heard him bellow. She started jogging over, only thinking to toss her water bottle to Henry when she was already several steps away. A woman was making her way down the bleacher towards the open space to his left, so Henry shifted his coat to save the seat next to him for Martha. The approaching woman made a disgruntled noise, and he smiled at her blandly, shifting it a little farther to create even more of a buffer. If she didn’t get over here soon, Martha was going to spend the first set on the other side of the gym, but he’d still rather have the space between him and someone in such an unpleasant mood.

The referee’s whistle blew sharply, and he saw Martha startle and turn to look for where he had found them seats. She caught his eye just as the teams formed up on either side of the net and she grimaced. He sent her a tiny grin, an echo of the one he’d had at her earlier protestations that she would just “catch up with Lisa really quickly.” She narrowed her eyes dramatically at him before their visual connection was broken by the visiting team’s setter taking up position. When he caught sight of her again, she pulled off her coat with a melodramatic air of wounded dignity, and Lisa Parrish was laughing and taking a seat on the bleachers by the door. Just to rub her nose in it, Henry gestured invitingly to the seat he was saving with an overly earnest look. Across the large room, Martha stuck her nose in the air and took her bleacher thone with all the poise of a reigning monarch. Henry’s eyes crinkled in amusement, his grin stretching, and he saw her break into giggles as he turned his attention to the court with the first serve.

Ten seconds later, they were both on their feet cheering, Cady having just slammed the ball over the net for the first point of the evening. Lisa and Martha were the only ones on that end of the room cheering, having gotten stuck by the parents of the Odin High team, the Comets. Some of the people around Henry were also clapping and cheering, but he and the shrieking brunette two bleachers up from him who he recognized as Cady’s best friend were the only ones on their feet this early in the game.

The auspicious start set the tone for the rest of the first set. The Durant Buffalos charged their way through virtually uncontested, and the energy around Henry ratcheted up so that when Cady set the ball for number 11’s kill that finished the set, he was not the only one on his feet. Martha and Lisa were still cheering, but the parents of the visiting team around them had a somewhat dampening effect. During the short break between the first and second sets, Henry expected that they would migrate over to join him in more friendly territory. He glanced over to see them both stand and did a slight double take when a crying teen stumbled up to Ms. Parrish. Cady was on her way back to the bench for a breather and hydration, but Henry kept his focus on the two women and the upset teen until Martha caught his gaze and waved him off. Nothing serious then, so he tossed Cady her bottle back when she came to a hopping stop in front of him.

“Thanks, Henry!” She was flushed with the activity and the success, high ponytail swishing as she jogged lightly in place, still keyed up. Henry smiled at his goddaughter with pride.

“Well played. The team is working well as a unit, your communication with your outside hitter seems to have improved,” he said with a pointed look. Cady huffed.

“I’m not going to apologize for sticking up for Megan when Sandy accused her of being after her boyfriend. But yeah, Coach yelled at us to keep it off the court, and Sandy apologized. And yeah, I promised to stop cutting her out. Might not have been my finest hour,” she conceded.

“How is your knee?” Cady set down her water and propped her right foot up on the bleacher to tug the light brace under the kneepad higher. “The brace is helping a lot; it feels a lot more supported, but I swear, when I start to sweat, it _itches_.”

“Poor baby.” His tone was desert dry. She stuck her tongue out at him and mimed squirting him with her thankfully closed water bottle. The same unpleasant woman from before flinched away from the pretend attack despite being several feet away and cleared her throat disapprovingly. Cady had to bite her lip to keep her face somewhat even and locked eyes pointedly with him.

From farther up the bleachers, Megan called, “Ca _dy!!_ Kick their asses, hot stuff! _Woo!_ ” Cady jogged backwards a few steps to see her friend and the whistle blew to call her back to the court. She threw both hands up for long distance high fives and the two girls yelled, “ _YOW!_ ” in concert, then she ran back to her position. Henry looked back to where Martha had been and saw both women still with the teen. The kid seemed a bit calmer and was perched between them on the bleachers, talking. Martha was staring at him already when he looked over, and widened her eyes in the same speaking _oh my god_ look her daughter had perfected and pasted on a sardonic smile. Henry cocked his head at her wryly and turned his attention back to the court. It looked like the Comets were giving the Buffalos more of a run for their money this set.

The Comets battled their way through the second set, making the Buffalos fight hard to eke out a very close win. Cady’s face was set when the team came back to the bench for the break, and all of the girls huddled around Coach Dalton listened and nodded with intensity. They had their arms slung around each other and just when Dalton clapped his hands and they started to split up, Martha stepped high over the first bleacher so that she could be just behind where Cady’s water bottle was.

Released from the huddle, Cady turned and spotted Martha. “Hey Mom.” Her tone was determined, as was her nod in response to Martha’s, “You’ve got this, honey.” Number 11 tossed a ball to her and she caught it automatically. “Speed drills,” number 24 chirped and the three of them stepped past the rest of the team into a loose triangle.

“That’s your daughter, then?” Martha turned her head, keeping her eyes on the trio for a moment before finally looking over at the woman next to her. Martha blinked at the overdone airbrushed wolves on her sweatshirt before answering, “Yeah, number 7,” and looking back to the girls. She leaned away slightly when the woman stood and leaned closer, inclining her head conspiratorially. When she spoke, though, it was in a voice pitched to carry.

“You should know, then, that _that Indian man_ has been paying a little _too much attention_ to her, if you follow my meaning.”

Martha felt more than saw Henry stiffen beside her, and her eyes lost their focus on Cady, leaving her staring vaguely into the middle distance for a moment. She turned carefully to look at the woman and saw sanctimoniousness in the set of her jaw and prejudice in her eye that matched her tone. Martha shifted forward to put herself between that gaze and Henry. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. What was it that her godfather did?”

The woman narrowed her eyes for a moment before her face soured further and she said, “You should just be careful is all. You hear all sorts of unsavoury things, and we need to look after our girls. Their kind aren’t like us, after all.”

Martha turned to face the woman deliberately and Henry recognized the acidic smile she directed at her as the ‘I _am_ the manager’ one that she sometimes wore at work. Her voice was that same sickly sweet service tone barely veiling the venomous bite. “What would possibly make you think that I have more in common with you than with him? Henry is _family_. You’re just a bigot and a bitch.” There was an odd lull in the general noise around them just in time for the last sentence to ring out in the gym. As did Cady’s awe-struck whisper of, “Oh my god, Mom…”

The noise picked back up sharply, as the woman gasped and clutched at her collar. Her face went white with indignation and fury, and Martha couldn’t help but glance down at her fluttering hand. She’d never seen anyone actually ‘clutch at their pearls’ before, but then Martha’s mouth twisted when she saw that the woman had actually fumbled a cross pendant out from her neckline and was clutching at it self-righteously. The woman opened her mouth, no doubt to give one or both of them a piece of her mind when she was jostled from her left, and then Walt was stepping past her in the limited space the footwell of the bleachers left for shuffling by. 

He kept moving and Martha leaned back automatically so that he could slide past until he stopped between her and Henry. He glanced down at Henry’s set face and then turned to look at Martha and the woman just past her. His face was pleasant and he raised his eyebrows at her mildly. “Making friends, Martha?” She smiled sardonically at him, knowing that he had to have overheard the exchange on his way over to them.

Still clutching her cross, the woman started to splutter something, but Walt purposefully turned his attention from her to the Busy Bee to-go bag and thermos that he was carrying. He sat down heavily next to Henry and asked, “So how’s our girl doing?” Walt handed the thermos off to him, ignoring the incensed censure erupting from the woman. He leaned into Henry’s shoulder just enough to make it obvious as he took off his coat and folded it across his lap so the deputy star was on top, cutting a dead-eyed stare at the woman who was still standing there, bristling. Martha’s smile turned sharper and more genuine. Between that and Walt’s unnerving expression, her invectives trailed off raggedly. Henry calmly unscrewed the cap of the thermos and took a long swallow of the steaming coffee, looking intently across the gymnasium. 

The coaches yelled and both teams started to gather up for the third set. Cady tore herself away from the scene reluctantly, her forehead creasing in worry when she couldn’t catch Henry’s gaze. When Cady turned to run to her position the woman drew herself up stiffly. She gave herself a little shake that reminded Martha of nothing so much as a ruffled hen trying to settle her feathers, and groped for her purse without wanting to drop eye contact. Martha tilted her head slightly, vengefully thinking of her favourite chicken recipes. Something of the predatory intent must have shown because the other woman blanched slightly, finally looking away to snatch up her purse and puffy mauve coat as the starting whistle blew. She huffed dramatically and turned to march away as disdainfully as she could manage, which, pushing past annoyed parents and rowdy teenagers, wasn’t very. 

With the enemy finally having quit the field, Martha sat down next to Walt and peered into the footwell between his boots. “Apple?” she asked hopefully. Walt blocked her reaching hand with his knee, defending Cady’s pie. “Cherry,” he said quellingly. She shrugged and looked past him to Henry, only getting his profile. He took another slow drink of coffee. His eyes tracked the ball on the court. He finally sighed and said lowly, “That was rather unneededly dramatic. She was unpleasant, but I have dealt with worse. None of that was necessary.”

Walt’s face darkened and he leaned his shoulder into Henry’s again. Martha’s face was surprisingly matter of fact when she leaned across her husband to steal the thermos. “Of course it was,” she said firmly, taking a sip of coffee and grimacing at the acrid taste. “You’re family.”

Henry glanced over at her, and she met his gaze head on. After a moment, something around his eyes eased, and Walt felt some of the tension leave the shoulder pressed to his own. Martha looked down into the mouth of the thermos. “Seriously, this is nasty. How the hell can you both drink this black?” Walt snickered and then jolted as the crowd around them erupted into cheers, Martha almost spilling the coffee into his lap when she jumped up to scream.

Twenty minutes later when Cady perfectly set up the spike that was the match point, all three of them were on their feet cheering. She broke away from the celebrating team mobbing, flung herself into Walt’s arms, still screaming and jumping. “Daddy! You’re here!” He laughed and got a steadying hand on her back as she flung herself at Henry just a moment later, crowing, “Did you see that?” Martha sandwiched her against Henry, hugging them both and yelling, “Yes! Yes, baby, that was amazing!” Walt grabbed Henry’s arm and tugged all three of them to the side, chiding, “Hey, hey, watch the pie; you’re about to step on it,” and Martha let go, laughing. 

Cady pulled back, still giddy and riding the adrenaline rush, and when Henry settled his hand on her arm and told her, “I am proud of you, Cub,” she beamed. He pushed her gently back towards the team, telling her, “Now hurry up and go change, or I am eating the pie myself.”

“Don’t you dare!” she called back as she jogged away, still buoyant from the win. 

Martha’s smile was slightly manic when she grabbed both of the men’s wrists and shook them excitedly. “I think this calls for pie all around, don’t you?” Walt groaned, looking forward to getting home after a long shift and a longer day. Henry turned his hand to hold Martha’s wrist in turn and grinned at his best friend. “After a game like that, it seems only right that Cady should get to have her pie à la mode, and I would enjoy some of Judy’s baking.” Walt groaned again, but this time in defeat. “That’s not fair,” he protested.

“Life’s not fair,” Martha told him solemnly, hooking an arm through Henry’s and then dragging Walt’s elbow out to hook her other through his as well. She started walking towards the hall by the locker room and they followed gamely along. “But hey, there’s victory pie, so it could be worse. Come on, fellas. Let’s go see if our girl is ready.”


	2. Late Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incomparable Min is owed many thanks for her invaluable support, enabling, and feedback. So thank you, dear friend.

It was 12:30 on Wednesday afternoon, Walt Longmire and Henry Standing Bear were having what someone very polite would call an “intense discussion” in one of the back booths at the Busy Bee. Judy just called it a fight. 

They’d come in half an hour before, already scowling, and over the past 30 minutes their control over their volume had been gradually slipping until it verged on out and out yelling at points. If Judy had been the Sheriff’s daughter, she knows she wouldn’t be happy with half of the worst gossips in town being able to hear him arguing what to do about her boyfriend apparently cheating on her.

Judging by the look on Cady’s face when the 16 year old lanky girl shouldered open the door, she wasn’t either. Her backpack knocked against the side of the jukebox when she pulled up short, teenaged mortification painting splotchy red across her cheekbones. Still, she managed to keep her head up when she turned to Judy behind the counter and ordered her BLT with no mayo, “and extra crispy bacon,” Judy finished her order with her, punctuated with a grim smile and a short, supportive nod. Then, Cady turned and made her way down the aisle towards the men.

They clearly had gotten even more intense because her first, “Dad,” was overshadowed by Walt slapping his hand on the table, making the silverware jump as she stood just behind his shoulder. Her second was drowned out by Henry’s, “ABSOLUTELY NOT,” accompanied by a furious finger stabbed at Walt’s chest.

She finally stomped right to the end of the table and slammed her backpack down between them, yelling over them, “DAD!”

They both turned to her, faces still glowering and snapped, “WHAT!”

In the moment of complete silence that reigned in the diner afterwards, both Cady and Walt turned slowly to look at Henry, and watched a slow wash of red start to creep up his neck. Cady found herself biting her lip in an attempt to keep her face dour.

Henry cleared his throat and leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms. Walt continued to just look at him. Cady had both lips pulled in, biting them at this point. Judy bustled around the counter with the coffee urn to warm up people’s mugs and raise eyebrows at people who weren’t minding their own business. Clearing his throat again and shifting in the booth, Henry glanced up from his intense study of the fries still on his plate, and said, “I believe that your lunch hour is over, Cady. Should you not be in your economics class now?”

At this, Walt’s brow furrowed and he turned his stare on Cady. She fiddled with the zipper on her bag and pasted on a wide awkward smile.

“Right! That’s kind of a good news-bad news thing. Good news, the self defense class Mom took me to last year? Totally effective. Bad news, I might be sort of suspended for the rest of the week for kneeing a boy in the nuts and punching him in the face. ...good news, I didn’t break my thumb?”

Her smile had gotten more strained at their faces as she had been talking, and was rather sickly by the time she finished.

“What the hell, Punk?” Walt said while Henry covered his face with one of his hands.

“...Look,” she started, shoving her backpack on the bench next to Walt and flopping down across from it, next to Henry. “It’s really not that bad. I have my homework for today, Megan is going to drop off my work for the next two days, we’ve already finished our science project that’s due next week, and I’m totally ahead in the English reading!”

“That’s not the point, Cady! You were suspended! For punching a boy! You can’t just go punching people!” Walt’s tone was insultingly incredulous. Cady’s eyes narrowed and leaned in, mirroring his pose.

“Didn’t you and Henry get in an all out brawl just last 4th of July over who knows what that only stopped when Mom dumped the cooler of ice on you both? Mister ‘you can’t just go punching people,’ is it?”

“That is not the same thing,” Walt retorted hotly. “Henry, tell her that is not— are you laughing??”

“No,” Henry said too quickly, hiding most of his face in his coffee mug, but his eyes gave him away.

Cady turned a smug smile on Walt as she dragged one of Henry’s arms back down, wrapping her own around it and hunching down into his side.

“For the record, Henry was right. If you see my boyfriend kissing another girl, you should totally tell me and let me handle it, not charge in like I need saving.”

Her face clouded over again as she glared daggers at the table before nearly growling, “I sincerely doubt that he’ll go around cheating on a girl again, after lying and telling all of his friends that he slept with her.” 

At this, both Walt and Henry sat up a bit straighter and she glanced up, hugging Henry’s arm harder. She rested her head against his shoulder and said grimly, “Don’t worry, I dumped his ass. With _prejudice_.”

Then a slow, satisfied smile grew.

“After all, I can take care of myself. I take after my dads.”

Walt let loose a rare bark of laughter before he could help himself. Henry’s fading blush renewed itself, but he squeezed her arms with the one she was holding in a sort of hug, touched.


	3. and his thoughts flew on ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cady has known Sheriff Lucian Connally since she was knee-high to a grasshopper, and it's pretty even money on which of them will get the other into trouble if left to their own devices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from a line in “[The Ride of Paul Venerez](https://mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=9821)” by Eben E. Rexford.
> 
> This was absolutely inspired by a certain someone commenting about Cady having to deal with 'Uncle’ Lucien, and my brain just _took off_.
> 
> And as ever, I am ever so grateful for Min’s wonderful championing of my continued foray into this wackiness, and feeding these random plot bunnies, and for being as fond of this cranky old goat as I am.

“Hey there, Firecracker,” Lucian said looking over at the doorway and hitching himself painfully up to sit a bit straighter in the bed. The pillow had slipped awkwardly behind him and he knew the fiddly little remote to raise the head of the bed more was around somewhere, but that was too much of a hassle. The teen looked paler than normal, washed out by the hospital lights, face unreadable as she lingered at the threshold. Lucian glared when she didn’t move. “You planning on just propping the door open so that every--”

He broke off when she strode forward in a rush and then punched him in the shoulder, hard. He winced and swatted at her hand, leaning away from her before flinching back away from putting more weight on the sharper pain in his leg. He rubbed at his shoulder, his dramatic grimace of discomfort more genuine than he wished. “What the hell kid! I got shot; you shouldn’t go around hitting invalids!” Kid had a hell of a jab, too, and apparently a bone to pick with him. 

“You got shot in the _leg_ , and you’re not supposed to get hurt,” she bit out, breathing harshly through her nose when she snapped her mouth shut almost before she finished the last word. He leveled an incredulous look at her.

“Well, I didn’t go lookin’ for it, did I? I didn’t get up this morning and decide on upping my daily lead intake. Shit happens, Firecracker. Sometimes people just get hurt,” he retorted.

“You promised,” Cady accused, voice cracking on the last syllable. Lucian stared her down. She clenched her jaw and glared at him harder, but he saw her blink grimly against suddenly bright eyes and her chin trembled.

“I… suppose I did,” he conceded gruffly. She nodded firmly and crossed her arms protectively, her shoulders hunched as she stood next to his hospital bed. Her mouth wobbled and she sniffled, attempting to pass it off as a derisive noise. His mouth twisted, also trying to ignore the uncomfortable amount of feelings intruding into the room. 

“I didn’t think you remembered that,” he muttered.

“I was a twelve year old, not a goldfish, you old goat. If either of us were going to have memory problems, it would probably be the one of us who’s pushing four hundred.”

“ _Watch it_ , you little--” he warned, reaching out to almost clip the back of her head before she danced out of the way, smirking unsteadily. He was glad that she missed his quickly stifled wince when the shift of his weight shot a pinching jolt of pain up from the bullet wound. Still, when she stepped back up to the bedside, she frowned at him, looking unimpressed. “Here, lean forward,” she commanded. He huffed, but did, as much as he could. She reached behind him to yank the pillow up behind his head and then shoved at his shoulder to get him to lie back. “Thanks,” he said dryly. She tossed her head so that her long ponytail landed over her shoulder artfully. “Whatever.”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Lucian mocked in a prissy voice. She dropped her air of unconcern to glare at him and stick out her tongue, reminding him abruptly of the little kid who would try to take him out at the knees with a flying tackle at the Veterans’ Day cookout each year.

“You’re lucky I can’t toss you over my shoulder and haul you around like a sack of potatoes anymore like when you were just a little matchstick,” he told her, wagging a finger at her.

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” she hissed. She narrowed her eyes at his chuckled, “Whatever you say, Firecracker…”

“ _You’re_ lucky I don’t lock you in your own cell again. Because I could, and past evidence says that not only would Ruby let me, but she’d help me with the rest of my homework before letting you out again,” Cady rejoined smugly.

A startled laugh came from the doorway and they both turned to see Martha with a hand over her mouth to stifle her amusement. “That actually happened?” she asked, voice still thick with laughter. Lucian scowled darkly as Cady turned an unbearably smug smile back on him. “It sure did,” she said in a tone so bright it set his teeth on edge. “And nobody has bothered me while I do my homework at the station since.”

“At least your husband didn’t go carrying tales,” Lucian grumbled. “Oh no,” Martha told him in faux earnest reassurance, joining her daughter at the side rail of the bed. “He did. I just thought he was trying to be funny. This is so much better, though. How’re you doing?” He just grunted irritably. “That good, hm. How long are they keeping you?”

“Too damn long already,” he groused. “What are you even doing here? Should I expect the rest of the troop of busybodies to come marching in next?” Cady gasped theatrically. “I’m telling Ruby you called her a busybody!”

“I did no such thing,” Lucian defended quickly, “It’s worth more than my life to even imply it, and I damn well know better. I meant… your father,” he finished feebly. Martha and Cady both snickered and he rolled his eyes. “Which brings me back to the question of what the hell you’re doing here, other than wearing on my patience.”

Cady tipped her head over to look at her mother, who sighed and told him, “I have some deliveries I need to get done before it gets too late, and with the shooter in the cell right now, neither Walt nor I want her in the office while they finish up the paperwork on the arrest. We figured that you were probably driving the poor nurses up the wall already, so we’re killing two birds with one stone. And now that I know that she’ll have no trouble keeping you in line to finish her homework--” She broke off with a grin at his growl and glanced at Cady. “I left your backpack outside the door, honey.”

When she went to retrieve it, Martha looked at him frankly. “How’re you really doing?” He glanced past her to see Cady disappear out of the door. “I’ve had better days,” he admitted. “I should be up and about pretty soon, but Walt will probably be acting sheriff for a week or so. I don’t bounce back from this shit as fast as I used to.” She nodded and quirked a comical eyebrow at him. “Despite having a face like vulcanized rubber,” she cracked. He cackled in response just as Cady came back through the door. “You are wasted on that brick wall of a husband of yours,” he told Martha appreciatively. “If you ever decide you want to trade up…” 

“She certainly has better taste than to even consider octogenarians,” Cady cut in blithely. Martha made an impressed sound, Lucian an affronted one, and Cady shrugged. “SAT word,” she told her mom before turning on Lucian with a moue of distaste. “Quit hitting on my mom. It’s creepy as hell, and extra gross because you’re super old. Don’t make me puke on you. Also, I’ll tell Ruby on you, _you. old. goat_.” 

Lucian held up his hands placatingly. “Now now, there’s no need for any of that. That woman has a way of ruining a man’s life that makes him wish she would just drop a piano on him and get it over with.” Cady snickered and dragged the sole chair in the room over to the far side of the bed so she would get some of the light from the window.

“And on that inspiring note,” Martha announced, “I’m off to do these deliveries. You have everything you need, Honeybee?” Cady pulled her trapper keeper out of her backpack and wedged it partially under Lucian’s elbow to keep it from falling off the bed. “Yep! All good; I’ll see you later,” she assured her mother while he glared at her but didn’t move his arm.

“Alright,” Martha hedged, hesitating a moment longer looking at both of them. “You, finish your homework. You, behave,” she said, pointing to each of them in turn. “Not likely!” Lucian called after her as the door swung shut. In the quiet after the door clicked, Cady and Lucian looked at each other suspiciously. 

“If…” she said consideringly, drawing the word out. He narrowed his eyes at her as she reached back into her bag. “...you help me with my English essay…” Lucian started to scoff. “...I’ll share my cookies.” Lucian paused, and watched with a gimlet eye as she withdrew a worn food container that was very familiar.

“Ruby made cookies?” His tone was suitably reverent. Ruby only made cookies about five times a year, and usually only for special occasions. Cady lifted part of the plastic lid to show them off, confirming, “Double chocolate chunk.” He tilted his head back against the pillow, considering his options. They both knew he wasn’t really in any position to negotiate, but he could hardly admit that. “What’s the essay?”

“We’re doing a section on poetry, and I’m supposed to pick a poet and write a three page thesis paper about how they do or don’t fit one of the poetry types we’re going to cover. Mr. Grimes has two books about cowboy poetry behind his desk, and you’re a crusty old white man who rambles on about the majesty of the open sky or whatever, so I kind of figured it would be right up your alley,” she told him with a bland look. He snorted. “As it so happens, it is.”

“Oh no. The shock. The terrible shock. However shall I recover my senses, overcome as I am with the stupefaction,” Cady droned in a monotone. She pulled her trapper keeper out from under his elbow and ripped open the velcro to turn to her English tab. “So,” she said expectantly, looking at him with her gel pen poised. He raised his eyebrows at her. She started again, more pointedly. “ _So_ , which crusty old white man am I writing my paper on? And don’t say you.” When he still didn’t say anything, she tilted her binder up to show the tub of cookies it was balancing on. “ _Talk_ , you old goat, or I’m eating every single one of these myself, in front of you.”

“Cookie first,” he demanded.

“Name first,” she countered, reaching into the container to hold up a soft cookie, almost black with chocolate, just out of reach. “Eben Eugene Rexford,” he snapped before she let him snatch it. Cady wrote the name down at the top of her notebook paper and watched him devour the cookie in hardly more than a second. She tilted her head, smirking at the crumbs stuck in his mustache. “You should just grow a goatee,” she mused. “Just the mustache is super dated. It’s not the 80s anymore, and you couldn’t be Burt Reynolds if you tried.”

He slanted a sidelong look at her and smoothed his fingers over the thick mustache, grimacing when he found the crumbs. “...is that just the set up for a goat joke?” he asked suspiciously. The way she brightened in delight told him that she hadn’t thought of that until he’d pointed it out, and he sighed, annoyed with himself. “It is now!” she crowed. He humphed, but ran his fingers over his bare chin in consideration. When she looked up at him gleefully, he said quellingly, “Eben Rexford.” She obligingly poised her pen above the page, ready to take notes.

An hour and a half later when Walt looked through the narrow window in the door, Cady had her science textbook spread across the small rolling bedside table by the foot of the bed and his boss had his reading glasses perched halfway down his nose as he peered at a thin paperback volume of what looked like Dickenson poetry. He pushed the door carefully open just in time for Lucian to hold his place on the page with finger and start, “Here, Firecracker, listen to this--”

“Unless you’re about to read me Emily Dickenson’s previously undiscovered poem on thermodynamics, _no_. I need to finish my physics.”

Lucian glanced up, seeing Walt coming quietly into the room. He sent him a look over the rim of his glasses and asked, “Is this how you’re teaching your daughter to respect her elders?” Cady looked up briefly before highlighting something on a photocopied page. “Give me just a minute, I only have two more paragraphs,” she said distractedly.

Walt’s chuckle was silent, but Lucian recognized it after the years he’d had the man in his department. “Just you,” Walt told him, taking in the pile of textbooks next to Cady’s chair, the slight strain on the sheriff’s tiring face, and the familiar open food container on the far bedside table. Walt straightened, focusing on the important information. “Ruby baked?”

“HA! No you don’t, bucko. These are mine,” Lucian declared, letting the book close on his finger to snatch the cookie tub to his chest protectively, curling an arm around it. “I got shot. I’m supposed to keep my blood sugar up. _Don’t even think about it_ ,” he growled in warning when Walt craned his neck slightly to try to see how many were left.

“Children,” Cady chided wryly, capping her highlighter. “I have a baggie of cookies for you and mom in my bag,” she reassured her dad. “You _sneak!_ ” Lucian accused. “Greedy old goat!” she shot back. “This is just good sense. You’re not the one who I’m trying to get to do my driving hours with me for my learners’ permit.”

“I could teach you to drive,” he wheedled, trying to see into her backpack. “ _No_.” Walt’s emphatic response came at the same time as her, “Uhhhhh, pass.” Lucian shrugged, still clutching the cookies defensively. “Your loss.” Cady snorted from her position on the floor, crouching to repack her bag. When she stood up and slung it over her shoulder, Walt nodded to his boss and went to the door. Cady paused at the side of his bed, looking down at the line in on the back of his hand.

“It was a pretty stupid promise to make to a kid,” she said quietly. “That’s not a promise you could keep.” He used his other hand to take off his readers and met her gaze when she looked up. “Yeah. It was. And no, it’s not.” Her expression crumpled ever so slightly, as if she had somehow still been hoping that he could have proved her wrong. His face softened fractionally. “I can’t promise I won’t get hurt again, Cady. I can’t even promise that your dad won’t get hurt at some point. I can promise I’ll do everything I can to keep either one from happening though. But honestly, I’d rather go out with my boots on. You know me, real cowboy shit.” He smirked at her, but his eyes were earnest. “Yeah,” she said almost soundlessly, her eyes dropping back to the knit blanket on the bed.

Walt watched them somberly from the doorway, and Lucian held his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He huffed it back out in a rush and held the book of poetry out to Cady. She looked at it and settled her shoulders before looking up. He endured her scrutiny stoically. “Keep it,” she said resolutely. “We finished it last week, and I think you probably need it more than I do in here.” He toasted her slightly with the book and lay back on his pillow. It had been a long day. She started to go before turning back, for just a moment.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Uncle Lucian.”

She ducked her head and speed walked out of the room past her father. Walt nodded one last time before following her out and the door shut. Lucian cleared his throat and waited a moment before dashing a hand across his eyes. Damn Longmires. They’d be the death of him.


	4. Consequences of Sneaking Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes there is no way to predict the consequences, and the consequences can change everything, or nothing, or both at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's a description of some situational anxiety, sort of edging into panic attack area, just as a heads up.

Cady crept her way ever so carefully towards the living room, her boots in her hand. Her sock clad feet knew which floorboard to skirt around as she tiptoed towards the one window she knew she could get open without enough noise to wake her parents. Marcus would be waiting down the road enough that his truck wouldn’t be heard when they headed off to the party, so all that was between her and the first party of her senior year was getting past the kitchen door without alerting her mom.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she bit her lip and hugged the wall next to the kitchen door, listening carefully before tensing to sneak a quick look. She could hear low voices and when she eased over to peek around the frame, Henry was leaning against the counter with her mother. Cady frowned, surprised. It was late and when she’d checked out her window, she hadn’t seen Henry’s truck. It didn’t really matter, she supposed. If anything, him being there made it less likely for her parents to check in on and find her bed empty.

She crouched, daring one last glance at them as she prepared to dart past the open door and froze, all of her muscles seizing in shock. As Henry smiled, her mom leaned full into his chest and kissed him. On the mouth. In their kitchen. Cady felt cold and sick and lightheaded all at once. She couldn’t think. Her vision tunnelled and she vaguely heard a rushing in her ears. That didn’t just happen. It felt like she had a layer of ice water just under her skin. This couldn’t be happening. She tasted bile and realized she was shaking. _This couldn’t be happening._ Henry was family. This couldn’t— _They wouldn’t..._

Her eyes were blurring with tears and Henry settled a casual arm around her mother’s waist as she leaned back to smile coyly at him. Cady barely heard the creak of the screen door when it opened, and then her father stepped into the kitchen, still wearing his sidearm at his belt. Cady’s stomach heaved. Someone was going to end up dead and Cady couldn’t react, couldn’t think, couldn’t _move_. She was frozen in the shadows just past the kitchen door, a shaking hand pressed to her mouth to keep her from vomiting or from screaming, she wasn’t quite sure, not feeling entirely present in her own body. The sense of unreality exploded exponentially when he tossed his hat on the table and turned to open the refrigerator door, pulling out a can of beer.

“Cady asleep, then?” he asked, voice easy.

‘ _Cady might be asleep_ ,’ she thought hysterically. ‘ _Cady might be having the weirdest fucking dream ever and be about to wake up any second…_ ’

“She went to her room about an hour ago, and the light has been off for at least half an hour,” Henry told him, still leaning against the counter with most of Martha’s weight against him. The pose was comfortable, like it was familiar or habitual, and Cady realized that she had been holding her breath since Walt had come through the door. She very carefully pulled in a shaky breath through her nose, positive that it was as loud to them as it was to her, audible even over the panic of her thundering heartbeat. Instead, Walt stepped over to the pair of them and slid the hand not holding his beer up Martha’s back, leaned past her, and pressed a kiss of his own to Henry’s mouth.

Cady clamped her thumb over her nose, cutting off the end of her inhale to keep from making any noise. She forgot she was holding her boots and reached out to brace herself against the wall, feeling her legs start to go out from under her with the shock. The boots thudded against the wall and she had a split second of seeing all three of them start to turn towards the sound before she was suddenly back in her room. She didn’t remember moving. It almost seemed like she had teleported, but she was shaking from the pure adrenaline. She heard her father’s boots coming down the hallway towards her door and time seemed to blur again as she shoved her boots under her bed with one hand, ripping her jean jacket off at the same time and shoved the partially inside out bundle of it under her pillow when she slid hurriedly into bed and pulled the covers haphazardly over her jeans.

She slammed her eyes shut just as the door swung open on quiet hinges and the focused every iota of her being on relaxing her face, keeping her breathing even, and _not shaking_ from the freezing crackle of adrenaline still racing her limbs. The moment stretched, Walt’s silent presence in her bedroom doorway making her spine prickle with gut churning _something_. It wasn’t terror exactly—she wasn’t afraid of her father—but the uncertainty? The sheer shock of the past few minutes left her unmoored, ripped away from her understanding of how the world was, how anything worked, and _that_ was terrifying. After a breathless eternity, he stepped back, pulling the door shut as he moved back into the hallway.

She stayed completely motionless, hardly daring to breathe until his footsteps retreated back down the hallway, and she heard the faintest edge of low conversation pick back up. Sitting up slowly, she pressed a shaking hand over her mouth again. She still felt disconnected. Her mind was in an odd fog, but racing along countless different avenues at the same time. Her skin was almost crackling with the hardly used fight or flight instinct and she felt like she was brimming over. Too full of emotions, thoughts, electrified nerves, everything. It was a relief when her eyes spilled over and she heaved out a harsh breath as she started to cry.

It didn’t make _sense_ , but already, even as she muffled her gasping sobs in her pillow, familiar pieces of her life were rearranging themselves. She had panicked seeing her mother kiss Henry, feeling the world pulled out from under her feet because the idea of her mom cheating on her dad was utterly unthinkable; as unthinkable as Henry betraying Walt. She knew that it happened, that married people had affairs, and that people cheated and betrayed each other, but not— Henry was family, and it just wasn’t possible. Then Walt had come in and if Cady had felt betrayed, the idea of what it would do to her father to see what she just had sent her into an even deeper panic. But… 

Cady pressed her hands to her face, relishing the relative cool against her tear hot skin. She took another deep breath, quaking as her lungs felt the aftershocks of her crying. Walt hadn’t batted an eye at walking in on them in a close embrace. No, he’d— Cady inhaled again, managing a slightly steadier breath while her mind whirled.

Mom wasn’t cheating on Dad. Henry wasn’t betraying Dad with Mom. Dad wasn’t upset with either of them, or even surprised. They were… Cady scrubbed her hands over her face roughly. ‘ _I don’t want to be thinking about this. I super don’t want to have to even think about any of it. But if I don’t sort things out, I will keep freaking out about this. What. the_ fuck. _Figure it out now, and I never have to think about it again. I can do this_ ,’ she told herself.

Mom and Dad and Henry were together. They were all… _together_ together. They were all sleeping with each other. Cady cringed and moved past that quickly. But it was more than just—‘ _Yep, nope, still not thinking about that_ ’—they were involved. Dating. Or, not dating, but a couple. With three. A threesome. ‘ _NOT going there._ ’ A triangle? They were a thing, one that clearly wasn’t a new thing. A thing that worked. A thing that had probably been going on for way longer than Cady could even guess. Cady paused, struck with a possibility.

‘ _Oh my god, what if they were together before I was even born._ ’ It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, when she thought about it. Henry had just always been there. She’d never thought to question it. He was her godfather. Most days and in most ways, just her second father. She went a bit wide-eyed again, and looked towards the kitchen, as if she could peer through the walls and see the three of them. Henry was family; that was an immutable truth, and had been for as long as she could remember. She swallowed a slightly hysterical giggle. Maybe she was just now finding out what exactly that meant for the three of them.

Cady settled back down on her bed, any thought of her plan to sneak out lightyears away. She had other things on her mind, having had her entire worldview shifted just slightly to the left. As she absentmindedly kicked off her jeans, running back over picnics and day trips and family dinners with all four of them she realized that everything she had thought of as hers was still there. She was just able to see it all in a slightly different light. Like one of those magic eye posters when you learned to focus and see the picture that had been right there all along. She wasn’t losing anything. She had just discovered how to see the picture with how all of her parents were happy.

The next morning, she would wake up headachy and tired from the crying and all of the emotions and stumble into the kitchen to find Henry making pancakes and her mother with a mug of tea at the table. He would wrap an arm around her despite his surprise at her sleepy, clinging hug, and soften further at her, “Papa Bear” mumbled into his shoulder. Her mother would watch the cozy family scene and remember the noise from last night and consider the possibilities. But that was all for tomorrow. Now, Cady shoved the lump of her jacket out from under her pillow, found the stuffed bear that she protested she was too old for, and settled in to sleep, hugging it close.


End file.
